


Bloom and Grow

by Nylocke



Category: Warcraft (2016)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 21:44:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7455001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nylocke/pseuds/Nylocke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’ve scarred from less.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloom and Grow

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the first time I've ever written anything other than disgustingly sweet fluff. Hopefully it turned out well!

The clear night air teased the grass with a sense of something more. It felt something like an apple, crisp and refreshing, but unobtainable no matter how far he reached. As his hand brushed against the long blades of grass, crickets chirped and jumped creating waves through the field. In the distance a wolf welcomed the constellations into the distant sky. The moon hid its face and only the stars cast shadows through the trees. The shadows were a world all their own that only touched his limpid cloak of night.

Everything was so real, so tangible, and yet Khadgar could none of it. What he did feel was lead in his chest, weighing him down, and cold, unforgiving steel piercing his heart. He breathed in, letting air cold as ice fill his chest and spread goosebumps across his skin. He felt so acutely alive, yet never in his life had he felt so dead. Even the sharp thrum of magic in his veins couldn’t bring him back to himself. He was so distant, so far inside himself, his soul so far from his skin. 

It had been several months since he had left the Kirin Tor. He could feel the mark on his arm biting into him, demanding that he come back--back to Dalaran, back to the Kirin Tor, back to everything he had ever known. Back to himself.

Was that really him? Khadgar had no idea. He hated the Kirin Tor, hated everything they had turned him into. They had ripped away everything: his family, his life, even his sense of self. Without them, who was he? What purpose did he serve--did his existence serve--without them enslaving his life, his destiny? He was a shell, a hollow vessel whose purpose it was to be controlled. He hated them, and he hated himself.

His eyes flickered to the mark on his arm. He could feel anger burning in him, though it felt distant, trapped under the weight in his chest. Dread crept across him as his hands reached down, pulling the dagger he kept in his boot; the dagger he kept to defend himself, keep himself alive. Horror beat at his chest, begging him to stop, but he felt so detached from it as he watched the dagger slide across his skin, across the mark that enslaved him, and drew blood. 

********

“I don’t need an escort to go to Elywnn Forest, Anduin!”

The young mage bristled at the man who stood in his apartment, fully clad in armor, his sheathed sword tucked under his arm. Lothar raised his eyebrows, his icy blue eyes somehow managing to look like the epitome of innocence. 

“This isn’t an escort,” Lothar explained as Khadgar crossed his arms in front of his chest, huffing. “Karos and I were going hunting anyway; we might as well accompany you with… whatever it is that you’re doing.”

“Research,” the mage replied, though he remained unconvinced by Lothar’s excuse. “And I don’t need a hunting party to escort me through Elywnn Forest,” he repeated. “It’s quite literally our backyard. I used to live there before I could afford this apartment.” 

Lothar smiled dangerously, stepping closer to the boy. Khadgar felt his heart skip a beat, but he didn’t budge, not even when they stood toe-to-toe. Lothar leaned his face close to the mage’s, and Khadgar could feel his breath tickling his cheeks. “Tell me, scholar, did you ever think that perhaps the reason I want to escort you is because I want to be alone with you in the woods where no one can hear us?”

Khadgar could feel his face flush madly. “I thought Karos was going along?”

Lothar’s eyes narrowed, glittering mischievously. He shrugged slightly. “He can deal with it.” Khadgar smiled.

********

The mid-day sun cast gentle rays down through the trees, coloring the forest with soft, golden light. It warmed Khadgar’s face from beneath his hood as his horse followed Lothar’s, and he allowed his mind to wander. It had been over two years since he had lived in this forest, surviving off the land as he hid from the Kirin Tor. Still, it held the memories of when he lived there, along with all the pain those memories contained. Khadgar had become so much stronger since he moved to Stormwind, he knew that. It had been so long since he felt that familiar prickling sensation across his skin, urging him to slide cold steel across it. He had been able to come to terms with what he was--who he was--without the Kirin Tor forcing him into a destiny he didn’t believe in, but the shadow of his scars haunted him. Whenever he undressed, he was reminded of his own weakness. Whenever he dressed, careful to put on long sleeves, he was reminded of his own isolation. No one knew about the scars on his arm--no one except Lothar.

Lothar had never said anything to him, and Khadgar was incomprehensibly grateful for that, but he knew that Lothar had seen the tell-tale marks when they had first met and Lothar had thrown up his sleeve. He didn’t want anyone to know, especially not someone so close to him. If people knew, they would worry about him, pity him. He’d be a burden if people had to check on how he was feeling all the time, worry that he was hiding fresh cuts. He was fine now; he knew he was stronger than that, but no one else would ever believe him if they knew his past. It was best if he continued dealing with it alone. Of course, perhaps he had allowed himself to get as close as he was to Lothar because the man knew. He had always gotten the feeling that Lothar understood somehow, and that was why he never asked. Lothar had been through so much pain, so much suffering; he understood pain, oh yes. He didn’t understand the kind of pain Khadgar had personally been through--perhaps no one did--but there was a certain kind of bond to be found in knowing that someone grieved silently alongside you.

Khadgar had never talked to Lothar about it. There were times when he wanted to, times when he wanted to sob and scream and let out all the pain he once felt, all the pain he kept hidden. But he couldn’t. He felt as though that would be incredibly selfish, making Lothar listen to problems that weren’t even problems anymore; just shadows of problems that haunted his skin. Lothar had enough to deal with as it was. Besides, he had built himself up to be strong, to be confident, to love himself. He wasn’t entirely sure he could throw all of that progress away to crumble into Lothar’s arms, leaving himself raw and exposed. No, it was better this way, for himself and for everyone else. He was sure of it. After all, it was only logical.

“Bookworm?”

Lothar’s voice startled him out of his musings, and he raised his eyebrows at the older man, an innocent smile pulling at his lips. He blinked, suddenly aware that his eyes were burning, and the look on Lothar’s face told him that the commander had noticed. Concern lined every inch of the man’s face, and Khadgar’s breath caught in his throat. Light, please don’t let me cry, he prayed. 

“Are you alright? What’s wrong?” Lothar asked, reining his horse around to ride beside the mage. Khadgar tilted his head down slightly, smiling and praying that his cloak hid the tears in his eyes. 

“Sunlight hurts my eyes”, Khadgar blurted, praying with all his heart that Lothar hadn’t heard the crack in his voice. Lothar clearly didn’t buy a word of it, but he didn’t press the matter. He grasped the boy’s shoulder, piercing him with his blue eyes before riding ahead with Karos again. 

********

The first pink lines of dusk had just begun to dance in the horizon when Lothar stopped, examining the area around the path. “We’ll camp here,” he decided, hopping down from his horse and guiding it towards a small hollow formed by a large boulder. “This looks like good shelter.”

“It is,” Khadgar mumbled, the words slipping out before he had the chance to catch himself.

Lothar raised an eyebrow, concern tracing lines on his face once more. “Is it alright if we stay here, bookworm?” Even though he called him by his nickname, a name he normally used to tease, Khadgar could hear the earnestness in his voice. He nodded, smiling at his friend. He could feel Karos’ eyes shifting between the two of them, but the soldier stayed silent. 

Khadgar slid down from his horse, stroking her shoulder gently as he guided her to where Lothar was already setting up camp, tying her reins to a low-hanging branch. He heard a curse escape the commander’s lips and glanced at him sideways to find the man kneeling next to a pile of twigs, flint and steel in his hands as he struggled to get a spark. Khadgar couldn’t help but smirk. 

“You know, I’m a mage,” the boy chuckled. “I can quite literally conjure a fire. I can even make one that will last through the night without needing tended, if you want.” 

“We can’t all just throw magic around like you, spell-chucker,” Lothar grumbled, waving his hand about a bit in a mock spell cast. Khadgar snorted. 

Lothar glanced over his shoulder, making sure Karos was out of earshot before looking back up at Khadgar. “Are you sure you’re alright to stay out here? I don’t want to bring up any--”

“It’s fine, really,” Khadgar assured him. He brought his hands up, blue flashing in his eyes as he mumbled a spell, and the fire sprang to life, its flames warm and bright against the cool surface of the rock.

********

The moon was full, casting its soft, pale light into the forest where they lay, the smooth overhang of the rock the only thing between them and the sky above. Khadgar lay on his back, his eyes tracing the constellations that he knew so well, not only from his studies but from his countless, sleepless nights under these same stars. He turned his head sideways to where Lothar lay, and he watched the man breathe deeply for a while. He looked so peaceful, it struck Khadgar that someone who had suffered so much could look as calm as the commander did now. The mage wondered if he himself looked that peaceful in his sleep.

He saw a gleam of pale light in the corner of his eye, and he turned the other way. Blooming under a tree several yards away was a peacebloom plant, the plant he had been hoping to find. He had heard that the plant blossomed beautifully under the full moon, but he hadn’t expected it to be so entrancing. He sat up, his blanket falling to the ground as he crept silently from the camp. Once he was a safe distance from the two sleeping soldiers, he picked up his pace, wishing he had brought his cloak. The night air chilled him as grass tickled his bare toes, and now that he was away from the warmth of the fire, he could feel the cold breeze as it swept through the forest, rustling the leaves of the trees.

He approached the plant with anticipation, knowing the powerful magical potential its delicate petals held. It had been a while since he had gone herb gathering; he hadn’t much time for alchemy or writing when he was on the run, and since he moved to Stormwind, all the supplies he needed were readily available. He reached out, his finger tracing the soft curve of the petal…

And it growled at him. Khadgar jerked his hand back as alarm surged through his body. A chill went down his spine as he realized the sound was coming from behind. He turned his head slowly, afraid to make any sudden movements. A white wolf stood behind him, its jaws foaming as it snarled at him, back arched, shoulders low. Khadgar was completely frozen, hardly daring to even breathe. The wolf padded closer to him, crushing grass and leaves with its massive paws. Spells and incantations whirred through the mage’s mind as he racked his brain, desperately searching for something, anything, that would save his life. 

The wolf pounced just as Khadgar had begun summoning his magic. It’s claws tore through the soft cloth of his robes, and he cried out as he felt the sharp sting of skin breaking. “Rui sa’lah!” he gasped, a flash of pure arcane magic slamming into the beast and knocking him back. It snarled, wounded but not dead, not past the point of ferocity as it sprang for him again. Khadgar hadn’t even noticed that Lothar was awake until the sound of cold steel cutting through flesh and bone rang out into the night, and the wolf lay dead next to the mage, its blood spattering his face and clothes. 

Lothar kicked the beast away, kneeling next to the boy as he grabbed his face, gently but firmly. “Are you hurt, kid? Are you alright? Khadgar, say something.”

Khadgar stared up into Lothar’s icy blue eyes, the worry and panic nearly spilling from them. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Anduin,” he began, but pain seared through his chest, and his teeth clenched, his vision going white as his ears rang. 

He felt the commander’s strong arms around him, felt himself being lifted off the ground. “Don’t worry, Khadgar, I’ve got you,” he heard Lothar’s voice say in his ear. “Just stay with me, please, Khadgar. Stay with me.” It was the last thing he heard before darkness swallowed him. 

********

He woke to a dull pain in his chest and light pouring in through the cracks of the shutters. He blinked slowly before lifting his arm to rub the sleep from his eyes. The movement tore through him like fire, and he gasped in pain.

Lothar was beside him, his hand gently but firmly on his shoulder. “Khadgar, are you alright? Don’t move too much; you took quite a hit, kid.”

Khadgar grunted as he opened his eyes, staring up at the man that sat on the edge of his bed. The feeling of his calloused fingers brushing the bare skin of his shoulder made him relax a bit, wincing as he laid his head back into the pillow.

“I’m alright, I’m fine,” the mage said through clenched teeth. “How long has it been?”

“Only a few hours,” Lothar replied, relief dripping from his voice. “I took you back to your home right away; the healer just left about an hour ago.” He reached for a vile on the bedside table, showing it to the young mage. “This goes on the wound three times a day, alright?” Khadgar nodded weakly.

“What about the camp? And all of our things?” Khadgar asked, concerned.

“I left Karos to take care of everything. He should be back soon,” Lothar assured him, his voice steady and soothing. Concern still creased Khadgar’s face, and he worried at his lower lip a bit as a silence hung in the air. 

“Sorry for ruining your hunting trip.” 

Lothar smiled and bent over, his hand leaving Khadgar’s shoulder. He held up a white fur cloak, not bothering to hide his pride in the smirk on his face. Khadgar raised an eyebrow and laughed hoarsely, ignoring the biting pain in his chest as he did. “For you, kid,” Lothar said, draping the cloak across the boy’s bare skin. It was soft and warm, the smell of leather rushing into his nostrils as he smiled up at Lothar. 

“Thank you, Anduin.”

Lothar returned the smile, sadness creeping into his eyes as he stared at the sorry state of his mage. His chest was bare save for the bloodied bandages that wrapped tightly around his wounds, and he was covered in sweat from the pain. Worst of all, however, was the mage’s exposed arm, the tell-tale signature of grief marring the boy’s soft, white skin. It was the second time Lothar had seen the scars, and the first time he had seen them after having gotten to know Khadgar so well. Until now, he had been able to push the thought of them from his mind whenever the memory of their first encounter bubbled up inside him. He didn’t want to think of what the poor boy must have been through, the heartache that had caused him to cut his own skin. 

********

Lothar strode into his room with purpose. It was times like these that Khadgar could see why he was the commander of Stormwind’s army; there was something powerful just in the way he held himself, something that demanded obedience but earned trust and loyalty at the same time. 

“Strip,” he said. Khadgar obeyed, wincing only slightly as he pulled his shirt off of his sore chest and over his head. 

It had been about a week since the hunting trip, and Lothar was at his apartment diligently morning, noon, and night. He would bring food--all of Khadgar’s favorite pastries from the royal kitchen, which he insisted he hadn’t taken without permission. He brought books from the library, and even though it was clear he had selected them at random, Khadgar was more than happy to read them. He changed Khadgar’s bandages thrice daily, helping Khadgar apply the salve to his wounds, making sure they were healing properly. Khadgar had been shy at first, insisting that he could apply the medicine himself, but Lothar wouldn’t hear it. Even so, after a week of Lothar’s constant care, the mage still blushed as Lothar’s calloused hands pressed against the bare skin of his chest. Neither of them said anything, but Khadgar knew Lothar noticed from the self-satisfied smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth. 

Khadgar dropped his shirt on the bed next to where he sat, staring up at Lothar as the commander poured the sweet-smelling salve into his palm and began rubbing his hands together. Khadgar laughed, a low chuckle in his throat, and Lothar turned to him, eyebrows raised. 

“What’s so funny, bookworm?”

“You know what’s ironic about that medicine?” he asked. 

Lothar didn’t have to say a word, but he fixed the boy with a stare that said, ‘you expect me to know anything about this?’ Khadgar smiled.

“The plant I was searching for that night, peacebloom? It’s one of the main reagents in that salve.” It was Lothar’s turn to chuckle at that, the irony of the situation not lost on him. He stood over the mage, palms pressed together, eyebrows raised slightly. Khadgar brought his chest up slightly to meet him, a blush already spreading across his cheeks. Mischief danced in Lothar’s icy blue eyes, but he behaved himself, kneeling in front of the mage.

“This is going to sting a bit,” he warned. Khadgar rolled his eyes.

“It has every time for a week now,” he pointed out. Lothar nodded an agreement before placing his hands on the mage’s chest, gently massaging the salve into his wounds. Khadgar bit back a gasp, his muscles tightening at the pain. Light, it stung so bad.

“You alright, bookworm?” Lothar murmured, his eyes searching Khadgar’s. Khadgar nodded, biting his lower lip. 

Lothar’s hands lingered on Khadgar’s chest for a moment before he pulled away, standing up and walking to the washbasin to rinse his hands. Khadgar watched as he deftly unrolled some fresh linen bandages, his bare skin still tingling where Lothar’s hands had lingered. The commander crossed back to where Khadgar was sitting, and Khadgar couldn’t help but notice the softness in the man’s eyes as he wrapped the bandages carefully across Khadgar’s wounded chest. Khadgar felt the heat in his cheeks as the man’s arms wrapped around him, reaching to wrap his torso in the linen. His face was practically buried in Lothar’s neck when the man tucked the end of the linen into the folds. The smirk on Lothar’s face as he pulled away let Khadgar know that it had been intentional. 

Khadgar picked up his shirt as Lothar straightened and stepped away to put the medicines back where they belonged. He worried at the fabric for a bit before asking, “Do you think it will scar?”

Lothar shook his head, busying himself with reorganizing the medicine cabinet. “You’ll be alright, kid. We’ll get you fixed up.”

“I’ve scarred from less.”

The words caught Lothar off guard. He turned to study the mage who suddenly wouldn’t meet his gaze, and he felt his heart shatter in his chest. Within three swift steps he had crossed the room again, kneeling beside his bookworm and looking up into his big, brown eyes, eyes that now swam with tears. He cupped the boy’s cheek with his hand, and tears spilled down to where their skin met. 

“Khadgar,” he said, his voice low, “look at me.” The boy’s eyes squeezed shut as he shook his head slightly, a sob catching in his throat. 

“I’m sorry,” he choked. Lothar shook his head, though he knew Khadgar couldn’t see. Words would never be enough now, he knew, even if he could express how much it hurt him to see his bookworm in pain, how much he would give to take that pain away. No, words could never be enough. 

Lothar let his hand fall, caressing Khadgar’s soft skin as it dropped to his left arm, the arm marked by magic and marred by pain. He took Khadgar’s wrist gently in his hand, bringing the mage’s arm up gently to meet his lips. He planted a kiss on Khadgar’s wrist, gentle and loving. Another, further up. Another, and this time he could feel the marks on the boy’s arm with his lips, but he didn’t stop. He continued even though he felt sobs wrack Khadgar’s body, and he continued even though he felt Khadgar tremble at his touch. He could hear the mage try and fail to stifle his crying, to push it down and pretend he was okay.

And Lothar understood. He understood having to stay strong for other people, he understood bottling up his grief for the sake of others, and for himself sometimes as well. And he understood the pain that Khadgar was going through right at this moment as the bottle spilled over, the facade of strength crumbled away. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Khadgar began, but Lothar silenced him gently, pressing his forehead against the boy’s. 

“Don’t be. Don’t ever be sorry.”

“I can’t help it, I’m such a burden, I’m so--”

His voice was smothered by Lothar’s lips as they pressed against his own, and he felt himself melt, the pain leaving every inch of his body as he let Lothar’s warmth envelop him. He was trembling still, but he didn’t care. He didn’t even care that tears were spilling down his cheeks, making the kiss excessively damp. He couldn’t bring himself to care about anything but the man whose lips pressed hard against his own, gently but firmly, urging him to believe that everything would be alright. 

Lothar pulled away, and Khadgar had to stop himself from leaning in, following those lips that could fix him, fix everything. He took the mage’s tear-soaked cheeks in his hands, his thumb gently wiping at the tears that were falling steadily. 

“Look at me.”

Khadgar obeyed this time, any feeling of shame or weakness he had felt completely gone, replaced by trust and love and desire. His brown eyes stared into Lothar’s, and he saw there nothing but love, and he felt the last walls around his heart crumbling away. He drank in the ocean that was Lothar’s eyes, let himself feel every touch the man offered. 

“You are not a burden. You will never be a burden. I love everything about you, and I want you to love yourself as much as I love you. I won’t stop until you do, understand? I’ll make you see how wonderful you are; I’ll plant kisses on your skin that will bloom and grow into love for yourself that is as strong as my love for you.”

Khadgar nodded in response, hiccuping softly as he tugged softly at Lothar’s shirt, pleading silently. Lothar leaned in, resting his forehead in the crook of Khadgar’s soft neck. He tilted his jaw up, planting a kiss on the mage’s shoulder. Another kiss he planted on his neck, another at the peak of his collarbone, another on his bare chest as he began tracing constellations into Khadgar’s bare skin with his lips. “You are as beautiful as the stars above, Khadgar,” he murmured into his skin, his breath hot, “more beautiful than the very heavens.” He spoke between kisses, leaning into Khadgar and guiding him down onto the bed gently. He pressed gentle kisses onto the mage’s stomach, careful to avoid the cuts on his chest as he moved out towards the boy’s sides. He made his way back up, propping himself up on Khadgar’s side but letting their legs intertwine, and he felt the boy’s hands on his back, reaching up under his shirt. He planted several kisses in the soft part of Khadgar’s neck before laying down beside him, pressing his nose into where his lips had been working just a moment ago. A gentle hand rested on Khadgar’s chest, just above his wounds so he wouldn’t hurt him, but he could feel Khadgar’s breathing, deep and steady now. He caressed his soft, pale skin as he traced a finger down the mage’s arm, his fingers intertwining with Khadgar’s. He laid their hands together on Khadgar’s stomach, letting the golden rays of sun warm them as they lay together. 

In all his life, Khadgar had never felt more whole.

**Author's Note:**

> My friend wanted me to add that Karos would spend several days complaining about being a pack mule for these two nerds :') Please feel free to leave constructive criticism, or shoot me a prompt on my tumblr: ocarinaenthusiast.tumblr.com


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